Road to the City of Angels
by Iryann
Summary: El Dorado AU  Sam and Dean are two hunters just trying to get by in the beautiful city of Seville when an unfortunate encounter with General Hendrickson leads to them being prisoners of Cortes. Their escape will take them to the legendary City of Angels.
1. Seville

**A.N. **_Hello! So, basically, the muse hit me with this idea for a supernatural story after watching El Dorado, and I couldn't help but find some parallels with Supernatural. For fans of the movie, I won't follow the plot exactly, just bits and pieces. I watched this movie in Spanish and I kind of don't like the idea of Cortes speaking in English, so I hope you don't mind. I'll put translations at the end :3_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Supernatural OR the movie Road to El Dorado._

* * *

><p><em>Ah, good ol' Spain.<em>

Dean winked at a beautiful señorita as he strummed his—or was it his?— guitar while his giant of a brother played dice with a couple of sailors. As he gracefully moved around their (mostly female) audience, Dean spotted a wanted poster hidden behind a slightly heavy woman. Giving her a charming smile, he kept her eyes on his as he walked behind her and, before anyone could notice, ripped the paper from the wall. It wouldn't be good if someone in the crowd realized that they were wanted fugitives.

Maybe they should skip town, he mused as his brother won yet another round with their loaded dice, smirking at the growing frustration of the sailor, who ignored his friends' advice to give up before he ended up truly broke. Of course, the innocent puppy eyed look in Sam's face wasn't doing much to calm the man's anger.

They'd have to try to find a ride inland. There were too many of the King's soldiers prowling around in Seville, what with all the excitement of the new voyage to the New World. In fact, they should have probably left the minute they'd found out that the Spanish navy would be joined by their good old friend Victor Hendrickson. God knew what the man would do if he knew they were playing their little games right under his nose.

Yep! Definitely time to move. He'd heard some rumors about a ghost sighting in Malaga. Maybe he and Sam could go check it out. The only reason they hadn't left in the first place was that the hunt had gone well and they'd decided to take a few days to rest. Dean's side was still tender from fighting that freaking black dog. They should probably try to get their hands on one of the soldiers' pistols before they left. Huh. Good idea.

Just as he was gonna motion for Sam to wrap it up, the big guy he'd been playing with lost his senses and tried to attack his brother. Sam merely sidestepped him, pretending not to have noticed as he stuffed all the money in his bag. Well, damn. They needed to get out of there without making a ruckus or they'd bring too much attention on themselves.

"¡_Ladr__ó__n! __¡__Tramposo!"_ The guy cursed, and from the way he swayed a bit on his feet, he wasn't completely sober. Perfect. _"__¡__Devu__é__lveme mi dinero!"_

Without wasting much time to take in the amusing sight, Dean simply stepped behind the sailor and acted as though there was a coin on the floor and exclaimed with flawless Spanish, _"Mira, un maraved__í__. __¡__Es mi d__í__a de suerte!" _He made a show of leaning down, positioning his guitar so that it would smack right into the big drunk's tender parts. The impact made the men around wince in sympathy and the women cover their mouths to hide their amusement as the guy made a less than manly squeal before falling on his ass. Faking surprise, Dean turned around and apologized profusely while Sam made himself scarce. Backing away from the groaning man and his alarmed friends, Dean took the opportunity to turn around and run.

Or he would have, if he hadn't run face first into the armor of a very disgruntled looking guard.

Damn. So much for leaving unnoticed.

The guard only seemed annoyed until he looked at Dean in the face and recognized him. His eyes widened almost comically then, and Dean grinned cheekily as the man made to pull his sword from its scabbard. A loud clang of metal as something hit his helmet stopped the action just long enough for Dean to walk around the guard and salute before running. Let it never be said that his brother didn't have good timing, he grinned as he spotted Sam with a rock in his hand, ready to use it again if the guard got too close.

"Nice timing, Sammy!" He cheered, running past his little brother knowing he would follow.

"If you stopped with your theatrics I wouldn't have to wait on you, jerk!" Sam called after him.

"Wouldn't have to if you'd stop flirting with the sailors, bitch!" he yelled back with a shit-eating grin as they dodged a group of women with baskets of clean sheets, the heavy footsteps of guards following not too far behind.

Without stopping, Dean tossed the guitar in the air and heard Sam grab it without trouble. If the sound of broken strings and a surprised grunt was anything to go by, his little brother had correctly guessed what he'd given him the guitar for.

Dean made a sharp right, laughing as his brother cursed and skidded before he managed to make it into the narrow alley. He could hear the guards cursing after them, the whistling sound of arrows from their fancy crossbows flying close over their heads or hitting the walls near them with every sharp turn they took.

"Dean, they're getting close!" Sam warned, and Dean chanced a look back to ascertain that, indeed, the guards were getting way too close for his liking.

Frowning in thought, he turned his eyes forward and spotted one of the intricate (and solid) decorative hangings that were being hung on the streets to greet Cortes and Hendrickson when they marched to the float of ships. A few of the long fabric hangings were still close enough to the ground to pull off Dean's favorite escape method.

"Sam!" He could practically feel the dread coming from his brother, and it only made his grin widen as he started running as fast as he could. "Take a swing!"

"Damn it, Dean, not again!" But Dean had already gained as much momentum as possible before flinging himself at the expensive violet hanging and swinging up as high as he could. It was only a matter of taking it at the right angle and make it to the roof before it was too late and gravity started pulling you down again. And maybe they weren't kids anymore, but where was the fun in making the town look pretty if you weren't going to play with the decorations?

He laughed triumphantly as he reached the rooftop; he only waited a second to make sure Sam had made it before he started running again in the opposite direction; straight towards the port. Maybe they could hide among the crowd waiting for Cortes and hopefully lose their pursuers.

Listening for the loud angry voices of the guards as they tried to climb to the rooftops with their heavy armors, Sam and Dean ran side by side towards the docks. Eventually though, they made it to the last building, and unfortunately, the guards had actually made it to the roof as well. At least they were far enough behind that they had a chance of getting lost in the crowd if they made it down fast enough.

Looking down, Dean saw the tent of a food vender and grinned. Lady Luck was truly on their side today. Beside him, Sam chuckled, and Dean met his eyes and winked. Without a second thought, they jumped down. The tent was barely tense enough to hold _both_ their weights, but they really just needed something to break their fall. Throwing an apology at the angry vendor that now struggled to get the tent off him, they quickly disappeared among the crowd.

Sam looked around to make sure they weren't being followed, and Dean immediately tossed a golden maravedí at a young boy selling hats before putting one on his head and throwing another at Sam. Once that was done, they both looked up to see the guards had finally made it to the edge and were looking around with obvious frustration.

Finally feeling safe enough to stop and take a breath, the brothers smiled at each other, adrenaline still running through their veins as they let themselves relax and enjoy the festivities.

Their luck had to run out at some point, however, and just when they deemed it had been long enough to start moving away from the crowd, Dean practically ran into Hendrickson's black horse. If it weren't for Sam, who briskly pulled them back into an almost empty (but _huge_, seriously, who were they trying to impress) crate of apples, Hendrickson would have turned his head to see Dean staring at him with wide green eyes.

They curled in on themselves as tight as they could, hoping that the man couldn't seem them from his horse, but as the English general passed them and they let a breath of relief, a distracted sailor—who was too busy flirting with one of the prostitutes that frequented the docks—closed the crate and hammered it shut. And Sam had to press a hand on Dean's mouth to make sure he didn't alert him. They wouldn't be able to run if they got caught in a fucking crate of apples.

As the sailor walked away towards the giggling woman, Dean turned and glared at his brother, "Nice one, Sam!" he hissed, "I know you have an obsession with fruit, but did you have to drag _me_ down with you?"

"Says the guy who's obsessed with apples."

"I'm claustrophobic! If I die of a heart attack, it will be your fault."

"Shut up! If I hadn't gotten us in here, Hendrickson would have seen you gawking at him and we would have been in even more trouble." And _there_ was Sammy's bitchface.

"And what do you think will happen when they open the crate and find us, genius?" He pushed an apple out of the way, "or did you forget that all of this is for that rich, fat-ass Cortes?"

Sam bit his lip, "Maybe we'll have time to escape before they load it." He mused hopefully.

As if on cue, the crate shook violently and the sickening feeling of being up in the air made Dean's stomach drop. "How about you keep your mouth shut." He growled.

"Look, it's not the end of the world," he tried to reassure him, but it was hard to do that when Sam himself was panicking inside, "There's still some time before they leave port, right? We'll just wait until they're busy loading something else and kick the crate open."

Dean was seriously starting to think that they'd used every last drop of good luck they had today, because almost as soon as the crate was put down, the sound of something heavy being set on top of them made him wince, and the light that had seeped through the cracks at the top disappeared.

"You were saying?" He turned to his brother, eyes narrowed.

"…Alright, we're doomed."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

><p>"Dean, stop eating the apples."<p>

"I'm hungry."

"If they see you're eating the cargo they'll throw us overboard."

"Damn, I thought you were gonna say 'kill us', well in that case let me just apologize. Oh wait, we're not supposed to be here anyway, _I'm eating the fucking apples!_" He sneered, munching loudly on a new apple in front of Sam's face, making his brother scrunch his nose and try to back away.

They stayed in a tense silence for a while before Sam sighed and shifted, trying to accommodate his giant body in the cramped crate.

"You think they'll really kill us?"

"I don't know," Dean mumbled, tossing the finished apple to his feet, "If not that then sell us into slavery, but considering Hendrickson's here, I'd say our chances are pretty slim."

"Yeah…" Sam let his head fall back, staring at the dark top of the crate, "Look, Dean—"

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean interrupted with his own sigh, "We were bound to run out of luck at some point."

Sam nodded. After a moment, he opened his mouth again, but tensed at the sound of approaching steps. Dean frowned and readied himself to fight in case they had the chance to defend themselves. The crate on top of theirs was lifted with the heavy groan of wood and the grunts of two sailors carrying its weight.

Sharing a look of dread, both brothers waited for the lid of their crate to be opened, but were pleasantly surprised and reluctantly relieved when the box was only lifted off the ground and moved towards the galley. Of course, they weren't going to open a sealed box of supplies until it was time to use it, and considering the little light that came through the cracks, it was probably too late to start opening anything. Dean only hoped there were more crates of apples in case anyone felt like having a midnight snack during the night watch.

As they were set down again, Dean heard one of the sailors complain that he was hungry. The other told him to just grab an apple and wait until dinner and left so as to not be considered an accomplice if the superiors found out.

_Shit!_

Well, at least this was better than being found out on deck. With a few grunts, the idiotic sailor got the crate opened. His eyes searched for a fruit in the low lighting only to come nose to nose with two grown men stuffed in the box.

With a friendly grin, Dean grabbed an apple and offered it to him, "Apple?"

The poor idiot was too in shock to react properly, and before he could raise the alarm, Sam had kicked him in the head and knocked him out. Those long legs had to be of some use.

Waiting for a moment to see if anyone had heard, they let out a breath of relief when no one came to their crewmate's aid. With a rude shove at Sam's face, Dean pushed himself up and out of the crate, stretching his back and groaning as his bones cracked into place.

Sam made sure to give him a bitchface before doing the same. Once he brought feeling back to all his limbs, Dean looked down at the unconscious sailor and nudged him with his foot.

"How long do you think until someone finds us?" he asked Sam as he grabbed some rope from an open crate and started tying the idiot up.

"As soon as we walk out the door?" he guessed, keeping an ear out for anyone coming close.

"I say the deck." Dean challenged, tightening the knot around the sailor's wrists before standing and nodding at Sam to follow.

They silently sneaked out of the galley, looking around for sailors as they made their way up a set of stairs and finally reached the deck. Like Dean had guessed, they opened the door to the deck only to find a good dozen of sailors turn to look at them, their expressions going from relaxed to angry in seconds.

"I win." Dean muttered, hiding a grin when a gold coin was tossed at him from behind.

"Um…" Sam eloquently started as the sailors grabbed for their weapons and started closing in on them, "Hello," Dean practically rolled his eyes, but as he glanced behind them, he saw that more men had appeared from the door they'd just come from. "We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere," Sam laughed sheepishly.

"Is this your boat?" Dean asked, like an interested passerby.

"_Ship_," Sam hissed under his breath, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ship! Beautiful ship," He grinned, tapping the solid wooden deck with his boots, "Very sturdy."

* * *

><p>"Generals," Victor looked up from the maps he and Cortes had been planning over, raising an eyebrow at his lieutenant. The man knew better than to interrupt a meeting, so it had to be something urgent. "It seems we have some stowaways."<p>

Cortes' eyes narrowed, and he replied in a thick accent, "Stowaways?" The anger of his voice made his lieutenant tense, "Who?" he demanded.

The man turned his eyes from both generals and responded, "The Winchesters."

Hendrickson's eyes widened. Not possible. He'd been looking to bring those two miscreants to justice ever since their actions had been found out in London. The amount of crimes those boys had committed was horrifying in itself, and if Victor weren't sure that they had been basically conditioned by their psychotic father, he would have thought them to be demons. In truth, the real monster was Lord John Winchester, who had gone mad after the tragic death of his wife. But the man had been declared dead tow years ago, and while they might not be as guilty as their father, Sam and Dean Winchester were still criminals.

"_Los Winchesters?"_ Cortes bellowed, he turned fierce dark eyes to look at Hendrickson, and the dark man wished his King hadn't chosen him for this 'supposedly' friendly voyage with the Spaniards, "I thought you say the were killers," he accused, "Why would they be on my ship?"

"Trust me, my friend, that's what I intend to find out," he assured the angry man as two young men were dragged into the room, their hands and necks trapped by wooden stocks. Victor felt a victorious smirk tug at his lips as they were pushed to the knees.

"Victor!" Dean greeted with a wide smile as soon as he saw him, bold and mocking as always, "Longtime no see, pal! How's life treating you? Decided to take some vacation in good ol' Spain, huh? The wenches are a better down here, right? You sly dog," The young man winked, and Hendrickson fought to keep his face carefully blank except for the calm smile on his face.

"You think you're funny."

"I think I'm adorable." The boy retorted immediately, and Victor tried not to roll his eyes, unlike the younger of the two, who was looking at his brother with an annoyed look.

"Enough!" Cortes interrupted, his chest swelling with rage at the audacity of the two boys that dared make jokes while in his presence, "My crew was as carefully chosen as the disciples of Christ," he growled, his accent more obvious in his anger, "I will not tolerate stowaways!"

"Dude, you are so much more intimidating in Spanish," Dean blurted, earning himself a kick to the stomach.

"_Silencio."_ Cortes snarled, and truly the man was fiercer in his mother tongue, _"Ser__é__is azotados,"_ He declared, his voice toning down to a colder anger as he glared down at the prisoners, _"Y Dios me diante cuando hagamos escala en Cuba para repostar recibir__é__is m__á__s azotes,_" Victor saw Sam wince. At least the youngest had common sense, the English general didn't envy the number of times they'd be flogged by the time they made it to Cuba. _"En las plantaciones the az__ú__car trabajar__é__is como esclavos el _resto_ de vuestra vida."_

And there was what he feared. Hendrickson frowned. He wanted to bring Sam and Dean back to London to be put in trial. He'd have to convince the man not to leave them working the sugar plantations like he'd ordered. The Winchesters were meant to be hanged, not enslaved. That wouldn't serve justice for what they'd done.

Before he could get a word in, however, Cortes nodded at his soldiers in dismissal, _"_To the brigg_."_ The intimidating figure turned back to the maps, ignoring the young prisoners.

"Alright!" Dean cheered, and Viktor wondered if he'd understood anything Cortes had said, "Cuba!" Victor rolled his eyes and turned away as the boys were dragged out of the room.

* * *

><p>Dean watched with bored eyes as his brother continuously banged his head against the wall, sporadically going into quick rambling thoughts of how to escape before going back to bumping his forehead. Like the kid's forehead wasn't big enough as it was.<p>

His only regret at the moment was that he couldn't lean against the wall without hurting the wounds on his back. Those bastards had flogged them until they'd left the skin of their backs in ribbons.

"Hey, Sam," he called, trying to find some amusement, "Any ideas?"

Sam glared at him halfheartedly before suddenly straightening—and Dean didn't miss his wince as the action pulled on the wounds on his back; he was going to kill those sons of bitches for touching his brother—, "Wait! I've got something!"

Dean sighed and eyed his nails, "Yeah, what's that?" He turned skeptical eyes back to his brother, who only stared blankly at him before going back to banging his head against the wall.

He was about to suggest his brother stop that before he gave himself a concussion when something fell right on him, "Ow!" He rubbed his head and glared up at the only opening of the brig before looking down to see what it was. His face brightened instantly at the sight of the offending object…or fruit. "An apple!"

Sam groaned and turned to look at him. "You are ridiculous."

Dean huffed, "See if I'll share it with you now, bitch."

"Jerk."

He was about to take a bite of the apple, when he heard a whinney from outside the brig.

Lightbulb.

"Hey, Sir Weeps-a-lot," he called, earning himself a bitchface, "Gimme a boost," he said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Sam rolled his eyes but complied, and soon Dean was high enough that he could pass his arms through the bars. "Hey! Impala!" He whispered, "Impala, c'mere girl," he heard a snort from close by and grinned, "You want a nice apple? Come and get it," He showcased the fruit, hoping to bring the black mare towards him.

The clopping of the horse's hoofs got closer, and Dean moved the apple away, "_But_," he peeked through the bars and saw Impala pull her neck back, annoyed, "First you've gotta do a little something for me," Seeing that he still had the animal's attention, he continued, "Find a crowbar."

He was losing her. Dean swayed the apple in front of her, reminding her of the price, "A long piece of iron with a _wooky_ thing at the end, 'kay?"

"Dean. You're talking to a _horse._" Sam deadpanned from bellow.

"Shut it, Samantha," he hissed before softening his voice once again. He grinned as he saw the black mare walk away, "That's right, beautiful. Find a crowbar."

"Yeah, find a crowbar," Sam bitched, "It doesn't know what a crowbar is, Dean it's just a stupid h—"

The clang of something hitting the ground brought their eyes to a small metal object, and they both stared blankly at the ring with the keys to the brig with disbelieving eyes.

"W-well," Sam muttered, "S'not a _crowbar_."

Dean merely shrugged.

* * *

><p>Victor Hendrickson was <em>not<em> morning person. So, needless to say when his lieutenant stormed into his cabin he almost threw the dagger under his pillow at him.

It was only after he'd made sure that his reflexes were under control that what his second was saying made it through the fog in his mind, "_What did you say?" _He snarled.

"The Winchesters are gone, sir." The man stuttered, obviously not happy to be the one to deliver the message, "There's no sign of them on this ship, and the brig is intact and still locked."

"Damn it!" He cursed, slamming his fist against the wall and making his lieutenant wince. They'd pulled off one of their disappearing acts again. He rubbed his face and looked up, glaring as he saw that the man was still there. But it seemed like the boy had something else he wanted to say, and from the look on his face it wasn't going to make him happy either. "Spit it out, Lieutenant." He ordered.

"They uh…" he cleared his throat, "They seem to have taken Impala with them, sir." He said meekly.

Victor felt his anger turn into utter fury at the audacity of those brats.

"…They_ what?_"

* * *

><p><strong>¡<em>Ladr<em>_ó__n! __¡__Tramposo! _**_Thief, Cheat!_

**_¡__Devu__é__lveme mi dinero! _**_Give me back my money!_

**_Mira, un maraved__í__. __¡__Es mi d__í__a de suerte! _**_Look, a_ maraved__í (Iberian golden coin). It's my lucky day!__

Cortes' lines are the same as the movie but in Spanish, and I tried to make Hendrickson explain more or less what he meant, but if you would rather I put them here, let me know!


	2. Winged Pet

**A.N. **_I know I started this pretty close to the movie road to el Dorado, but from this chapter on there's going to be a bunch of different stuff. They're not really there for the gold this time, so we'll see how it goes. Hope you still like the fic. Comments, reviews, ideas are very appreciated :3_

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><p>'<em>Ugh, my head…'<em> Dean's mind was clogged with seawater. Sam could say all he wanted about the water not actually making it to his brain but Dean refused to accept another answer because that's what it felt like damnit. Although dehydration, overexposure to the sun, a severe lack of food and a bunch of days being swayed around by _big ass_ waves of the storm they'd had the luck of stumbling/rowing into—it was all Sam's fault, anyway—could prove all to be valid causes for why he felt like shit.

Or maybe it had something to do with his decision to be smart and drink seawater. Not that he was telling that to Sam.

His vision swam, a very pale view of the sky with blurred patches of green indicating that he was probably on his back on the sand of whatever beach they'd washed up in.

And okay, not thinking anymore because just using his brain right now gave him nausea.

A groan made it past his lips, echoing loudly inside his head—which didn't help his massive headache—and he might have been able to get out a semblance of Sam's name. Am. He should rename his brother Am. Much easier to say when drunk or, in this particular case, suffering of heatstroke, starvation and dehydration.

He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until he blinked up to a slightly changed view. The patches of blue and green were still there. But there was a blur in between them now. Something that looked black and fluffy and a pair of the bluest jewels he'd ever seen, and_ ole_ he was so calling them. At least they'd ended up on an island with jewels. Pretty, blue jewels that blinked.

Blinked.

Jewels that blink.

_Damn it, I shouldn't have drunk __that seawater._

Dean heard a low, cautious voice speaking gibberish in some language he didn't understand. His brain must have gotten tired of working under such conditions though, because soon after that, everything went black.

* * *

><p>Sam woke up to the smell of roasted meat. His stomach rumbled rambunctiously, and Sam jolted ready to scream <em>'Sharks!'<em>—because in his nightmares, the stupid big fish had taken the annoyingly scary tendency of growling—only to go back down after smacking his forehead against something that felt like rock with a loud _thunk._

"Ow…" He groaned, bringing his hand to his pulsing head.

"'Bout time you woke up, idjit." A grouchy voice mumbled somewhere to his left.

A grouchy voice that he hadn't heard in _years_.

Blinking big hazel eyes towards the old man that was watching some animal roast over the fire, Sam stared at him for a long time before rubbing his eyes and letting out a resigned groan.

"I'm hallucinating again…Dean, I'm gonna kill you, stop giving me seawater, damn you." He mumbled unintelligibly, "And we're so eating the horse, I don't care what you say."

"Just how long you two been driftin' in that sorry ass boat, boy?" Bobby asked, finally rising from his spot by the fire to sit on Sam's cot. "And I'm assuming it was your brother's idea to bring a horse along for the ride."

"You know," Sam frowned at him, watching him closely with a squinty eyed look, "You're the most convincing hallucination I've had so far."

The Bobby vision rolled his eyes—pretty authentic too, although last he remembered Bobby didn't have as many wrinkles…and his hair wasn't as grey—and slapped him. Hard.

"_OW!" _Sam immediately put his hand to his burning cheek.

"That feel real enough for ya, kid? I can go again, if you want."

"Okay! You're real! You're real!" He pleaded, raising his hands to defend himself from the very real, and very annoyed old hunter.

"Good." Bobby nodded before leaning back, watching Sam carefully for a moment, "Now, I've gotten some water in you, but you should drink some more. Then you can tell me just what the hell you two idjits are doing so far away from Europe."

Patting his leg, the old man rose to his feet and walked, no, _limped,_ to the other side of the precarious looking cabin. It was then that Sam noticed Dean sleeping in a makeshift bed (made mainly of rugs and pillows) a bit farther away from the cot where Sam sat.

Bobby limped outside, lingering by the door (if the hole in the cave could be called as such) as he talked to someone in a language Sam didn't understand.

Where the hell had they landed?

The old man walked back inside and sat by the fire with a groan, giving a few more instructions to whoever stood out the shelter. Sam's head perked up as a low gravely voice responded, quiet and timid, remaining out of sight. Watching curiously as Bobby's eyes softened—an expression that Sam didn't recall ever seeing in the hunter's eyes since they were little—and he said a few more sentences in that strange language, seemingly encouraging the man to come in. Sam leaned forward in an attempt to take a peek at the shy stranger hiding outside. A young man stepped slowly inside Bobby's 'house' (Sam had to give it some kind of name). He was lean, not as muscular or broad shouldered as he or Dean, but Sam could see the hidden strength in his smaller frame. He had dark hair that seemed to have been ruffled by a strong wind.

And he had the bluest eyes Sam had ever seen.

Astonished by the almost unnatural color of the stranger's eyes, it took Sam an embarrassing minute to notice the large dark appendages folded behind the young man's back.

Wings.

The guy h—**_wings?_**

"Are those—?" He pointed rudely, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the enormous black wings while they flexed awkwardly in order to get through the opening of the hideout.

"Wings? Yep." Bobby turned to the winged man, the corner of his lips quirking up as he motioned for him to come closer, "C'mere, Feathers. Boys need some water."

The angel—because it couldn't be anything else, right?—eyed Sam carefully for a moment, then glanced at Dean. Sam looked over and snorted. His brother was sprawled all over the blankets, his mouth gaping open and snoring peacefully, unaware of the curious blue eyes that were focused intently on him. The creature tilted his head, a light cooing (very _bird _-like) sound vibrating off his throat at the sight of his brother's odd sleeping position. Not that Sam could blame him.

"Castiel," Bobby called gently, and the young man turned wide blue eyes to look at him. Sam couldn't help but think of a child, almost waiting for Castiel to point at Dean, waiting for Bobby to explain what the strange man was doing. Castiel—that was a strange name. The old hunter waved his hand towards Sam, "He won't bite, boy, come on."

And Sam could suddenly see that Castiel's curiosity was indeed partly hidden by a certain degree of caution, like he wasn't used to seeing people like him (without wings). Unable to deny his own interest, but not wanting to scare the winged man either, Sam did his best to look harmless, offering him a small smile and what his brother would probably call his puppy face.

Suspicion faded from Castiel's eyes, childish fascination coming to life again as he made his way towards Sam, clutching what looked to be a hand-carved wooden pot in his hands. When the curious creature was close enough, Sam noticed the cup by the bed and slowly reached for it before offering it to Castiel.

With another quirk of his head, the angel eyed him for a moment before carefully pouring water into the cup.

"Thank you." Sam smiled.

"You're welcome." And the hunter's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't thought Castiel could speak English. Seeming to notice his surprise, the dark haired man flushed, looking down and backing slowly away.

Feeling guilty for making him feel self-conscious, Sam merely let his smile widen, "You speak very well," He glanced at Bobby, who was looking at Castiel with something like fondness before shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the fire.

"Bobby taught me your language." Castiel answered, apparently encouraged by his compliment as he looked up from the pot to meet his eyes. His pronunciation was certainly good, although the careful slightly awkward way in which Castiel spoke told Sam that he still wasn't entirely comfortable with this new language.

"That's amazing, Bobby," He congratulated the old hunter. Teaching someone a language from scratch was hard enough, but getting them to the point were they could talk fluently when their original language was so different was certainly impressive. He looked back at Castiel, "Did you teach him to speak your language?"

Castiel shook his head, "He has the amulet." Like that explained everything, and Bobby chuckled in the background. But before Sam could ask what that amulet was, Castiel pointed at Sam's cup, "You should drink."

With that said, the angel (and Sam would stick with that no matter what anyone told him) turned around towards Dean. Hiding a pout in the wooden cup, Sam drank the water obediently. His eyes followed Castiel towards Dean's little corner.

Castiel looked over his shoulder at Bobby, and Sam could have sworn there was a spark of mischief there when he asked the old man a question in his own language. Bobby chuckled, amusement clear in his face as he nodded, "Go ahead, idjit needs to wake up to eat anyway." Narrowing his eyes, Sam watched as Castiel adjusted his hold on the pot…

…and poured half of its contents over Dean's sleeping form.

The older Winchester jerked awake with a yelp, green eyes wide and in full state of alarm as they darted around the cave. Bobby's loud laughter was echoed by Sam's surprised one.

_So much for being shy. _

Castiel watched Dean intently but from a safe distance—which was smart, considering Dean was still a hunter with violent reflexes, but then again, if Castiel knew Bobby as well as he seemed, he'd probably been fully aware of that—, his blue eyes studying Dean's reaction with amused curiosity.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, once he took on his wet clothes, blinking away the water from his face before wiping it dry with his hand. "What the hell?"

"Couldn't leave you to your beauty sleep, princess." Bobby grouched good humoredly, a grin still visible in the corners of his lips.

Dean stared at the hunter with eyes so wide Sam had to try hard to hide his own smile, "_Bobby?"_

Bobby just shook his head, still chuckling as he started cutting pieces of meat and put them on wooden bowls. "Castiel, did you make the amulets?" He asked the angel with a smile.

The young man nodded and, after handing an astounded Dean a cup of water, put the pot down and left the cave, his wings flapping slightly before pressing tight to his back as he reached the opening. Sam watched with open amusement as his brother's eyes followed the creature with his mouth hanging open.

"Were those—?" He pointed a finger towards the entrance.

"Wings." Both he and Bobby chorused.

"Well, I'll be damned." Dean muttered, looking down at the cup still in his hand before taking a slow sip. But Sam could see the tension in his brother's shoulders, the way his eyes darkened slightly as he eyed the water for a moment, "So, since when are you keeping monsters as pets, Bobby?"

"_Dean!"_

"Quiet, Sam." Dean answered without looking at him, his green eyes focused solely on Bobby. To his credit, the old hunter didn't falter under his glare, only stood with a small wince and limped towards Sam, handing him his food. Sam took it with an apologetic look before sending a glare Dean's way. His brother had not missed Bobby's limp it seemed, as his eyes narrowed while the hunter walked towards him.

Once he reached Dean, Bobby straightened his back, looming over the young hunter with a dark look that Sam had only seen directed at their father. "Since he damned well saved my life." He answered coldly, and Sam's eyes widened at the statement. Bobby shoved the second bowl of food into Dean's hands, who had the measure to at least look slightly contrite when the older man growled, "He saved yours and your brother's too, if that's not enough for you." Sam winced, "So when he comes back, you'll keep your damned comments to yourself. Because Castiel ain't a _pet,_ he's my _friend_, do I make myself clear?"

Dean met Bobby's glare for a moment before looking down and nodding quietly.

"Good," Bobby nodded and limped back to his chair, "Now eat. Who knows how long you two idjits have gone without food." He grumbled as he set out to cut the rest of the meat and put it into another two hand carved bowls.

Without needing to be told twice, Sam wolfed down his food, practically shoving pieces of the deliciously spiced meat into his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned, "Bobby," he swallowed, "What is this? It's amazing." Dean nodded from where he sat, but didn't look up as he kept eating, still burned.

The hunter eyed him with a raised eyebrow, and Sam flushed but Bobby only shrugged and started eating his own meal, "Some sort of hog, I don't know. Animals 'round here are weird as hell." He shook his head. "Taste damn good, though."

Sam nodded enthusiastically before turning right back to his food.

As they ate quietly, Bobby's anger diminished, and Dean became less tense. However, as soon as Castiel walked back in, Sam could see from the corner of his eye that Dean was ready to jump for the kill again, and Bobby was glaring daggers at him. Castiel seemed to notice the tension, looking up from whatever he was holding. Frowning slightly at Bobby's angry expression, the angel followed his line of sight only to see the dark look in Dean's eyes. Sam's chest tightened when Castiel flinched slightly, clearly not having expected Bobby's friend to look at him like that.

"Hey Castiel!" He greeted quickly; remembering the cautious way Castiel had looked at him when he'd woken up. After Sam had reassured him of his good intentions, the poor guy had probably thought Dean wasn't dangerous either. Smiling gratefully when deep blue eyes turned to meet his, Sam's own eyes softened when some of the angel's tension faded.

"Hello, Sam." Sam's smile widened, it made sense that Bobby had told him their names, what with how curious Castiel had seemed when they'd met. Castiel's lips barely quirked up, but there was a warmth in his eyes that Sam attributed to the angel returning his smile. This of course made Sam grin like an idiot as Castiel walked cautiously—since Dean's bed was closest to the opening of the cave—towards Bobby.

The hunter wordlessly offered him a bowl of meat, throwing a brief grateful glance at Sam before muttering something in Castiel's language, patting the young man's shoulder. It was then that Sam took the to look at what Castiel was wearing. A strange sort of tunic of dark, worn fabric that reached just above his knees, tightened at the waist by a sash that Sam imagined must have been white at some point and leather strings. His feet were clad by sandals of leather and cloth that reached his mid-calf and reminded Sam of the paintings he'd seen at some of the churches back in Spain and France.

For how majestic Castiel's wings were, the young hunter was surprised to note that the angel was practically dressed in rags. His feet were dirty, his hands calloused and his knees were slightly tinged with green, like he'd been crawling on grass. Glancing briefly at Bobby's bad leg, Sam looked back down at his empty bowl with a small frown before turning his eyes towards Castiel.

"Did you hunt this, Cas?" Bobby and Castiel's conversation was cut short as they both turned to look at him. Dean—who'd apparently stopped glaring at Castiel after seeing the reaction it had brought from the winged man—looked up from his food with a curious frown.

Blinking, Castiel's eyes drifted to what remained of their lunch, then met Sam's. "Yes." He said carefully, glancing at Bobby as though to make sure that was the correct response. "I caught it this morning."

"Oh, thanks then!" Sam smiled, "We hadn't eaten anything in a long time, and it tasted great."

Castiel's eyes widened slightly at this, as though unaccustomed to be shown gratitude so often. He started saying something in his own language before shaking his head and correcting himself, "You're welcome." He stuttered.

"C'mon, Feathers." Bobby patted Castiel's back, "Food's gettin' cold."

With a nod, the angel turned his attention to his own meal bashfully, glancing at Sam from under his eyelashes briefly before quickly looking back down. Sam felt an odd sense of protectiveness flare in his chest at Castiel's shyness and chuckled quietly. Slowly pushing himself off the bed, his eyes wandered over to his brother, who was looking at the angel with something less like a glare and more like soft amusement.

"Heads up." Sam almost dropped his bowl when Bobby tossed something at him, managing to catch it with his free hand. It was a medallion. Curious, he lifted it closer to his face, examining the round bone pendant tied to the string of leather. It had some symbols he'd never seen before carved onto its surface. "Put it on, both of ya."

"What is it?" Sam looked up at the sound of Dean's voice and saw that his brother also had one, and that he had finally let go of his hostility towards Castiel to look curiously at the odd necklace.

"Enochian sigil." Bobby answered as he finished his meal and put his plate down on the stone floor. When both Winchesters blinked owlishly at him, he rolled his eyes, "Castiel's language. Boy's a fast learner but he can't speak English all that well yet, and I'm not gonna play interpreter for you two." He waved his hands dismissively, "Now put'em on."

Sam was quick to put the string around his neck, looking down at light weight of the medallion pressed against his chest before turning excited eyes towards Castiel. "Is it working?"

Bobby snorted before turning to Castiel, who was watching them both with open curiosity. Tilting his head, the angel fixed his blue eyes on Sam, "I believe I performed the spell correctly, so it should be."

His voice came out so fluidly, none of that previous careful and awkward pronunciation, and Sam's eyes widened in awe, an amazed laugh escaping him without warning.

"Awesome," Dean chuckled before apparently realizing he was supposed to be suspicious of the angel. "Wait, did you say _spell_? What are you, a _witch angel?_"

Castiel blinked at Dean, his unnerving stare serving to make his brother falter for a second—Sam suppressed a snort—, "Enochian magic is very commonly used among angels. The one I used on your pendants is a mid-level spell, not too hard to perform."

"…Oh." Dean answered dumbly, green eyes wide and completely taken by the angel's blue ones. Their staring match had not a sign of hostility this time, they were simply…lost in each other's eyes? Sam raised an eyebrow, looking from one to the other before remembering what Castiel had said.

"Wait, so you're really an angel?" He asked in sudden amazement, his long legs making short work of the distance between him and Castiel. "An actual _angel_?"

Castiel turned his one-hundred-yard stare from Dean to tilt his head up at Sam, confused by the question, "Of course, what else would I be?" He said it so genuinely, like it was the only answer that made sense, that Sam couldn't help but laugh, surprised to hear Dean laugh too, Bobby chuckling somewhere in the background.

Castiel looked at all of them with a frown, eyes narrowed in obvious confusion before seemingly deciding that it didn't matter. "I should go fetch your animal," He said suddenly before turning to exit the cave.

"Animal? What animal?" Dean asked, and Sam was relieved to see there was no suspicion left in his brother's eyes.

"Your black, hornless unicorn."

At the utter silence that followed his question, Castiel glanced at Bobby for an explanation for the hunters' astounded reaction only to see the old man's shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Unicorns?" Sam and Dean stuttered practically at the same time.

Castiel looked at them like that was a stupid question, "Yes."

"There's unicorns around here?" And for all Dean had made fun of Sam for that oldwives' tale he seemed to glow with childlike curiosity.

"I'm afraid they've become mostly extinct, but yes, they used to be quite prolific." He eyed Dean for a second before turning once again towards the entrance of the cave, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bring yours back." He outside before they could think to say anything.

"Wait, wait, I'll go with you!" Dean suddenly followed, snapping out of his shock to go see his precious Impala. Sam was still resentful that his brother hadn't let them eat it when they'd been starving, but now that he was working on a full stomach he felt slightly guilty for having wanted to kill the beautiful animal.

With a sigh, the young hunter rubbed his face before turning to meet Bobby's eyes.

"You don't think he'll try to kill the angel, do you?" He asked the old hunter.

Bobby scoffed, "I'd be more worried about your brother if they started fighting."

Sam laughed, "Well, seeing as Castiel took care of Impala, Dean will probably put him on a pedestal now."


	3. Animal Instincts

Dean walked behind Castiel as the angel led him through the forest—or more like staggered clumsily behind him as he looked around, gawking like a dumbass. He'd never seen most of the plants and trees surrounding him, and he'd travelled a lot, so the fact that not one leaf looked familiar was nothing short of mind-blowing. Where the hell had they ended up? More to the point, what was _Bobby_ doing here? And why was he friends with an angel?

Of course the fact that he was following an _actual, real angel_ was still sinking in. And while Castiel looked friendly enough, despite his formal speech and intense stares, Dean couldn't shake his instincts all that easily. And after almost three decades of hunting down everything that was, by definition, _not human_, to trust a creature with large wings on his back was not exactly something he could just _do_. Although Sam seemed more than happy to, and Bobby had shown an obvious amount of affection towards the angel.

_Or maybe you're just being a dick because the angel's pretty, and has eyes that would probably sell for more than a couple of lousy sapphires, and you're trying too hard to not think with your downstairs brain._

Dean shook his head. Nope. That wasn't it at all.

In his pigheaded attempt at denial, Dean tripped over a thick root and would have been chewing on some of the too-colorful-to-not-be-poisonous mushrooms in front of him had Castiel not reacted quickly enough to hold him up.

The hunter's ears burned as Castiel steadied him, watching him intently as though to make sure Dean was okay.

"Thanks." He muttered sheepishly.

The angel met his eyes, and it was so damn hard not to get lost on those blue depths. Thankfully, once certain that the hunter was alright, Castiel only nodded and started walking again. Dean let out a breath and followed, cursing his libido as they finally left the tree line and stepped into a clearing.

There, munching on some grass, Impala grazed peacefully, apparently content despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Standing stupefied for a moment, Dean watched as Castiel approached the beautiful mare and placed a hand on her side. To Dean's surprise—as Impala had always behaved like a wild and untamable beast who hadn't even warmed up to Sammy yet—Impala greeted the angel almost happily, nuzzling his hand and then his face, snorting playfully to blow Castiel's dark hair into an even messier state.

Castiel's gentle smile as he stroked the mare's neck was something Dean refused to think too much about, and so he took a long breath and stepped into the clearing, quietly coming to stand next to the angel.

"She's a majestic animal." Castiel murmured, that small smile still lighting up his eyes.

Dean felt the corners of his lips curl up, anyone that could appreciate Impala couldn't be that bad in his book. _Yeah, I'm sure that's it. _He quieted the voice in his head and decided to be nice to the angel, "Yeah, she is."

_Wow, you are so eloquent._ Dean really hated himself sometimes. Is it bad to want to punch yourself repeatedly in the face? Probably not a healthy thought, at the very least.

"She is strong to have survived with little to no sustenance," Castiel added, and Dean noted a hint of concern for the mare's health hidden behind the awe of his voice. Suddenly, he was faced with a set of blue eyes that dug right into his soul, "How long were you adrift at sea? The conditions I found you in were…not the best."

Dean gaped like a fish for a good second or two before mentally smacking himself and falling back on his safety mask of charm, "Well, you know, I lost count after a while but…over a week at least."

Castiel nodded, a grim look on his face as he turned his eyes back to the mare, who seemed to sense the angel's displeasure and nudged his chest gently. And really, if the horse was so taken with Cas, Dean should really stop being an asshole and accept the guy was not in any way like the monsters he'd spent his life hunting (_killing_ ).

"I didn't think you were alive, when I first spotted you." Castiel's voice was quiet as he said this, and there was a sadness there that made Dean frown, "It is not often that bodies wash up on our shores…but when they do, they are…rarely alive."

"Is that how you met Bobby?" Dean asked, also lowering his voice to match the angel's.

The mention of the old hunter brought warmth back into those dark blue depths, "In a way…" He swallowed, and suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I was…accompanying the high priest of my kin on his walk down the beach."

Dean filed away the odd pause for later study, right now he was interested in the other people inhabiting this place. "So how many of you are there?" A childish sort of curiosity took hold of him, and Castiel's eyes met his, a knowing glow in them that made Dean feel like a kid.

"I have never thought to ask, but I would think our numbers around a few hundreds, at the very least." There was an amused glint in those blue eyes that pulled a smirk out of Dean.

"Any chance Sammy and I can get a tour of the place?"

* * *

><p>"So, how about you? How the hell did you end up here?" Sam finally got around to asking after explaining their little adventure to the old hunter.<p>

"Same way you did, basically." Bobby grumbled, "Although I didn't get the pleasure of getting a ride from Cortes himself."

Sam grinned and got comfortable, determined to hear the rest of the story. He was curious about Castiel and his people.

Bobby shook his head, amused at his antics, and tried to get more comfortable himself before pouring some wine for the both of them. Yeah, Sam would ask him where he got that later.

"I wasn't as bad as you two, I'd been surprised by a storm that practically tore our little galley to pieces." He caught the question in Sam's eyes and answered quietly, "Rufus, Ellen and her girl Jo, Ash, Pamela…they didn't make it." He shrugged, a deep frown marring his brow as he tried to hide the sorrow that the memory dragged up, "At least I don't think they did…Their b—Castiel hasn't seen 'em yet. So there's no way to know."

They stayed in silence for a long time, and Sam tried not to think too much about their friends. Bobby was apparently of the same opinion, as he cleared his throat and took a long draught of his drink.

"Anyway, by the time Castiel and that pompous ass-hat found me, I was already conscious and trying to figure out what Godforsaken place I'd ended up in."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Ass-hat?"

Bobby's expression darkened, and Sam was surprised to see real anger in the hunter's eyes, "Some idjit angel, the high priest of the angel folk apparently," He grumbled a few curses under his breath that would have made a sailor blush, "He was dragging Castiel by one of his wings like he was a spoiled brat or somethin', yelling things I couldn't understand at the time, but the boy looked like hell."

Sam mirrored Bobby's frown, but didn't say anything, "I didn't know what the hell was goin' on, and I might have stared at their wings like an _idjit_ before I got myself down to interfering."

"So, what happened?" The young man wasn't so sure he wanted to meet the rest of Castiel's kind anymore.

"Guy almost had a heart attack, that's what. Looked at me like I was a freaking _ghost_ or something." Bobby chortled at the memory, "Anyway, he suddenly got all nice and polite, and managed to communicate that I should follow him." The old hunter snorted, "Dumbass actually thought I agreed because of him." He shook his head, "I only did it because the look on the boy's eyes was enough to tell me things could get ugly if I refused. I didn't wanna get the kid into more trouble, so I agreed."

The hunter took a long breath and met Sam's eyes with an intensity that surprised the younger man, "I won't deny that that city is the most amazing thing I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot, you know that." Sam nodded dumbly, excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside him, "But you listen to me, boy. It ain't all happiness and shiny rainbows in that place. That high priest is a mean son of a bitch, and some of them angels are real twisted too. True, Castiel ain't the only nice one in there, but…watch your backs."

Sam opened his mouth to reassure the old hunter, but Dean chose that moment to burst into the cave with a scary, wolfish grin on his face, "Sammy! Pack your bags, we're going to see the angels!"

The young Winchester closed his eyes and took at deep breath. Yeah, Dean was going to act like a five-year-old and get them all in trouble. He just knew it.

Pushing himself to his feet, he spotted Castiel at the entrance and gave him a small smile before turning back to give his brother and unimpressed look, "Oh, so _now_ you want to mingle with the natives? What happened to—"

"_I've changed my mind_." Dean said pointedly, and Sam realized Castiel could have taken offense to Sam repeating Dean's first thought on him and what he was, "So." He clapped his hands, "Get off your ass."

Sam spotted Bobby rolling his eyes, but the old man was hiding a smile. With a small grin of his own, Sam raised his hands and gave in, "Alright, alright…" He looked at Castiel, who was watching them with curious eyes, "How long will it take to get there, Castiel?"

"Two and a half days." Dean was practically bouncing with excitement, Sam would think he'd been smoking with the gypsies again, it was so freaking confusing. Sometimes he wondered about his brother's mind.

"We're going camping! Just like old times, little brother!" He clapped Sam's back. Hard. And Sam had no trouble giving his brother the biggest bitchface he could muster. Dean only laughed and gave Bobby a hug, which visibly surprised the old hunter, "Thanks for everything, Bobby." It was amazing how much his brother's attitude had changed in the course of barely an hour. Sam practically gaped at the cheeky grin on Dean's face as Bobby cursed him to hell and beyond.

"Listen, ya idjit, I know you're about as cautious as a rich woman in the market but try to get it through your thick _skull_ that you're not here play around."

Dean managed to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before smirking and practically prancing out the door, "C'mon, Cas, we're losing daylight!"

To his credit, the angel diligently followed Dean outside, like this was a normal occurrence and Dean had not been giving him death glares barely three hours ago.

Sam shared a look with Bobby before taking a readying breath and giving the old hunter a smile. As he stepped out, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. With a frown, he looked over his shoulder to see Bobby's very serious scowl, "Sam, I'm telling this to you because your brother's behaving like a five-year-old, and you need to be ready." Sam nodded firmly, "Castiel is not exactly of high social standing," Yeah, Sam had sort of figured that, "In there, they judge folk by the color of their wings, and the darker the color, the less friendly they'll look at ya." Sam felt a pang of sadness for the kind angel's plight. Castiel's wings were so dark blue they were practically black. They were beautiful, no doubt, but obviously his own people wouldn't share Sam's opinion. Looking at Bobby, he could tell the hunter felt the same way, "Just giving you a heads-up, so you know what you'll find."

"Thanks Bobby," He patted the hunter's hand once before he was let go. Dean was already waving at him from several feet away, obviously impatient. "We'll see you in a few days, hopefully."

"You better."


End file.
